


i roll and i roll till i'm out of luck

by cebolla



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, bit of angst, following the events of 3x5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8543947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cebolla/pseuds/cebolla
Summary: Isaks heart beat in his throat and he tried to convince himself it was the beer, it was the beer that made him feel ill, that made him want to rid himself of the sickening inside his stomach, the churning under his skin.He felt crushed.He felt amputated and cold.He felt dirty, the sight of Sonjas fingers in Evens hair and he knew better didn't he? Even had even said it. He was so young, too young. Too naive. There hadn't even been a thing, had there? It'd all been something he'd built and built again in the small spaces between the catching of their eyes and Isak was too young, he heard in Evens voice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS UNBETA-D. i just busted this out in one go, which is new for me. i don't typically write much, if any, fanfiction for tv shows but these two have my absolute heart and i wish so badly to see more work of them. please leave a comment & excuse mayhaps or mistakes– i am so very tired.

Isaks heart beat in his throat and he tried to convince himself it was the beer, it was the beer that made him feel ill, that made him want to rid himself of the sickening inside his stomach, the churning under his skin.

He felt crushed.

He felt amputated and cold.

He felt _dirty_ , the sight of Sonjas fingers in Evens hair and he _knew better_ didn't he? Even had even said it. He was so _young_ , too young. Too naive. There hadn't even been a thing, had there? It'd all been something he'd built and built again in the small spaces between the catching of their eyes and Isak was _too young_ , he heard it said in Evens voice.

He picked himself up off the ground, moist soil freezing his kneecaps and dirtying his jeans. He pulled the phone from his pocket in a drunken anger and deleted the messages, even Evens name from his phone. ( Maybe this little part of him knew he would cave so quickly if he forgot how he felt just then, though the larger part of him stayed too drunk to remember to block him, too drunk to remember much of the night but for the turning in his stomach. )

\---

He woke the next morning dry, like all the moisture had left his body– he'd cried himself empty and into a heavy heart. The stab of betrayal had shed itself and evolved into a pain behind his ribs, a rolling in his stomach like he was waiting for the next punch– and his _head_ , dear god, _his head_.

He lay miserably on his back for a moment, then two before he was waking again an hour later with an intense need to piss. ( And to puke and shower, though no matter how his fingers scrubbed at his skin, he couldn't remove the dirty feeling that had nested in his bones, so he exited with a sore head and raw skin and eyes far too dry. )

Eskild was in the kitchen after he'd finished dressing.

"Isak." There was a question in his voice, the sound of reproach and Isak struggled to gather himself to shake his head slightly, to look up and meet his eye– Eskilds face was too comprehending, like he _knew_. ( Maybe he did. )

"I'm sorry...about the other night. I shouldn't have said those things...," Isak tapped his fingers on the wooden table in front of him, nonchalant in the un-nonchalant way he carried most things of matter and everything not of.

"You shouldn't have," Eskild agreed, but said in a manner Isak could hear himself forgiven in, letting Isak change the subject momentarily, "You came in late...?" He pressed and Isak took a breath, eyebrows raising like he'd forgotten, or more likely, as he prepared the poor way he usually tried to sell his lies.

"Yeah, I walked home because– I was too drunk to ride straight. Didn't look at the clock because my phone died."

"You couldn't get a ride with, um...," Eskild searched for his name, pressed for it, but Isak looked up at him uncomprehending, mouth sealed and unwilling to wrap lips around the name of betrayal at all costs.

"No then," Eskild finished lamely. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Isak shook his head, swallowed.

"I don't want to talk about him. I've got to get to school."

And in that way that made Eskild so wholly beautiful as a person, he turned around to grab and hand Isak a glass of ice water and headache pills without further questioning, "I have a feeling you're gonna need these, then."

\---

Isak stomped down the street, hood pulled tight over the red cap he'd long ago stolen from Jonas and of which he claimed as his own now. His straps were light across his shoulders but he held them in each hand as though the pack on his back weighed a million pounds. 

He reached the bus stop, paused and reached into his pocket with a push of air from his lips.

His phone was charged and off for the moment; Isak had been putting off having to check it. He didn't want to see any names on it, not _Even_ , not his mamma or pappa, not even Jonas. ( He wanted to speak to Jonas in the same bitterly strong way he didn't; with great need and urgency. A silence to maintain their friendship and a conversation to save his insides from digesting themselves. )

He held the power button until the screen lit pleasantly and Isak was a small enough person to be slightly bitter at it for it's liveliness. 

He stared at it blankly, unseeing as his apps loaded and the messages started dinging in, too fast for him to truly process. 

_Ding, text, ding, missed call, ding, text, ding, text, ding, phone updates, ding, missed call, ding voicemail, ding text, Mamma – Jesus, Our Lord and Savio-, ding, missed call–_

He watched them flood in as the bus pulled up, it's doors opening to allow him entry and he climbed the steps with a heaviness not befitting his smallish body, fingers wrapping absently around the pole as his thumb hesitated over his texting app icon, contemplating.

" _Hello._ "

Isaks finger tapped his phone in surprise as he lifted his head, eyes catching Evens features only a moment before he made to move back down the steps of the bus, that horrible crawling sensation settling into his gut again, a shakiness in his fingers like the pump of adrenaline, and _god_ his lips on her lips––

he was too slow. The bus doors were closing again and he swallowed, turning just in time to see Evens fingers hovering, floating, dancing away from his shoulder, although they hadn't touched him.

He looked–

He looked–

Human.

If there were one thing Isak had learned of Even, it was that he'd certainly been something _more_ , as much as he was the person Isak had fallen to crush on. But there on the bus, Evens brows furrowed lightly, a slight dip formed at the corner of his mouth that had Isak swallowing again, moving to stand back at the pole, so hesitant it could have been waiting to shock him, he looked like a person.

It was quiet for too long; Even didn't try to speak again, not yet. Isak knew he was mounting for it, waiting to find an angle of approach. He always was; he couldn't stand the silence.

Isak held his phone up resolutely in front of his face, although he wasn't looking at anything particular, not even the many, many texts he had missed. He could see Evens fingers gripping the pole beside him so tightly his fingers went white-knuckled for a moment before he relaxed and for some reason it made Isak throat stick so he settled for breathing silently through the knot in his stomach.

"Hi," Isak spoke before he turned into the nothing of the silence between them. Even had asked him if he'd ever thought about death, and he hadn't, but now. Maybe he knew something of it, something more. He didn't want to be numb with Even beside him, but he wouldn't cry either, and that left no alternative.

"Hello," Even breathed it like relief, like he'd been holding his breath the last five minutes of silence and Isaks eyes dipped down as he scuffed a toe against the tacky 80s print of the bus floor.

"I didn't see you at the party," Even finally spoke when he realized he was going to get nothing more from Isak, "Emma said she saw you there."

Isaks shoulders hunched more, the moment of confrontation with Emma crossing his mind again and he hummed in agreement, head nodding slightly as he rolled the corner of his lip into his mouth, absently nervous– his eyes checked the passing streets to see how much further they had.

There'd been so many replays, replays of replays of replays, like he could pinpoint the moment he'd gone wrong; but he'd gone wrong almost permanently the last few weeks. Maybe since he'd been born it'd been only venomous repeats and replays of false moves that had gotten him this far at all. How many people had he hurt in trying to prove himself again and again? He wasn't even sure anymore. Wasn't sure whether it mattered, even. Not now, anyways.

So what was it? What was it that he'd said this time? Because he was too stupid to know.

 _Take a break._ Just tell him, god. Get him out of this one because Isak wanted to forgive and to be forgiven. He was so weak with Even in front of him, soft and glowing. He wanted to get his mouth against his, like it would sooth the pain that had found him, weak and longing.

"Isak," Evens voice was soft the pull at his lips not quite a smile, but something equally as gentle.

Isak startled from his thoughts, realized the other boy had been waiting for some form of reply. He squinted a moment, like he didn't know what he wanted to say, his eyes catching Evens lips unwillingly, like he was really thinking before–

"Fuck you."

Evens face didn't fall, maybe that was part of contemplating your own insignificance in the universe, like he'd prepared himself for all outcomes and possibilities. They were quiet for a while more, Isak ignoring Even, phone in his pocket as even more of a snub, although it dinged furiously with texts that he was sure were just coming in. Jonas no doubt.

"Isak, we need–," the bus stopped at the school, Isak disappearing down the steps the moments the doors were open, leaving the rest of Evens words in his wake. He didn't care what they needed; there was no _they_ to need anything at all. 

He ducked his head, intent on continuing without notice, and had gotten a distance before there was a firm hand on his arm, someone turning him around.

"Isak!" 

Jonas face was annoyed, not angry, but as close as Jonas ever got to it.

"I've been calling you all yesterday, why the hell aren't you calling me back?"

Isaks mouth opened, then closed, then–

"My phone died," he finished lamely.

"Isak," and Jonas voice was softer, though more accusatory. 

People were saying his name a lot that day; he felt more akin to a troublesome puppy than to anyones friend; hardly human. What did Even see him as?

"What?" He hissed the words, though it pained some part of him to be mad at Jonas, of anyone, when it wasn't Jonas he wanted to yell at.

"What? I was worried. The least you could do is text me back. I know something is up with you."

"My phone died."

"Was it your mom?"

Isak wrenched his arm from Jonas' grip.

"Stop it," he opened his mouth to say more but then there was Even beside him, angled somewhere between him and Jonas and Isaks gaze went sharply to him.

"You alright?" He looked at Isak for a long moment, the tone of his voice the same lightness it always carried with it, but Isak noted his fingers curled into the pockets of his jacket and the way his jaw clenched when he turned to look at Jonas. It was all too much, the day was far too gone and the sun was still just risen. He didn't know what to say, mouth dry and head confused.

"Fine," his voice was raspy so he cleared his throat, "sorry." He threw the apology out lamely, desperately for anyone who needed it to catch, eyes caught on the ground before he was shoving his hands into his pockets, forcing a half nod in thought and retreating, a few steps backwards and then a flurry as he turned, his pace breakneck without running.

He'd dragged Jonas into it all, and that was that– they had met, they were probably talking about him now and and– 

and his stomach churned as the headache from earlier returned and threatened the contents of it all over again. He had no game plan, just one foot in front of the other at a speed that was drawing strange looks from the people he was moving past. Just as he was beginning to slow, 

"Isak!" Evens voice, slightly out of breath and far too close and Isak was already flight so there was no chance of fight as he startled into a run that did nothing to agree with the way his elbow and knees ached from the angry force of his stomach.

He didn't know why the fuck he was running– in fact he wished he'd stop, but the adrenaline kept him fearful and the fear kept him running and when he glanced back, Even was running after him, which only pushed the cycle to continue in some ridiculous cartoonish fashion.

"Stop– following me!" He yelled it awkwardly, broken participles over his shoulder as he dodged between people.

"Stop running then!"

And that wasn't something Isak thought he was capable of at the moment, but which his stomach was soon convincing him of, knowing he'd be sick if he didn't at least slow. He gave one last-ditch effort of shaking Even, dodging into a park that came up quickly on his right and slipping behind the bushes that bordered it which stabbed him angrily in the cheeks as he scraped by.

His chest heaved, palms sweaty as he leaned and rubbed them against his thighs. His stomach was violent at this point and he could hear the sound of Evens sneakers as they slowed, _thud, thud, thud_ , like his heart, against the pavement. Isak willed him away, eyes squeezed shut as every ounce of him hoped he'd walk by–

He re-opened his eyes and Even was there, pushing between the bushes that blocked them from the road, leaning against a tree not that far off as he caught his breath.

"Why were you running?" He asked finally, finding his voice through the breaths he was taking, more amused than not to Isaks annoyance, though for the moment all Isak responded with was a swallow.

Even made to move closer, taking a step, but the moment he did, Isak was backing away, knocking back into the tree he'd been leaning against. He tried to clear the shakiness from his limbs and still the violence of his stomach but Even wasn't making it particularly easy.

"Go away."

"Can we just talk?" 

"I saw you at the party."

That seemed to catch Even off-guard, for he fell quiet for a moment, though not for too long.

"You did?"

"You were kissing Sonja," Isak nearly ran over the end of Evens words in his desperation to be rid of them, like speaking them would banish them from his mind.

They didn't. If anything they made him feel worse than he already did, cold sweat seeming to break out over his body. He shivered, still hunched, hand slipping to his uneasy stomach.

"I– are you okay?"

Isak looked up at him, attempted a glare, something he was barely capable of when he wasn't feeling sick, a weak and sorry excuse for anger, before his gaze slipped away again.

Even still had the grace to look guilty, but Isak was having a hard time in taking pleasure in it.

"I'm sorry."

Isak didn't want to hear that.

"Shut up."

"I am, though. I was drunk and– the reason doesn't matter. Just know that I am."

"...what did I do? Did I say?" Isaks voice was slurred with reluctance, mumbled as he dragged his gaze back to Even.

"What?"

"I know...I don't think sometimes. Before I speak."

Evens gaze softened, Isaks stomach churned and he bent double.

"Are you–"

He threw up. For the second time that day.

"Jesus!" He heard Even come closer but he was too focused on the violent task at hand to take too much notice.

His breathing was ragged and sore and his mouth tasted like hell as he spit a few times, but he felt better– and Evens hand was on his back, thumb brushing against a shoulder blade buried a sweatshirt and tshirt deep; it didn't stop the shiver that travelled down Isaks spine at the contact.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Isak spit again, straightened himself out on achey joints and finally faced the reality of the situation; that Even was here. That they'd have to talk.

"I didn't mean to. Whatever I said."

"Yeah, yeah no. I get it, Isak." Evens face was one of concern and amusement, "maybe we should talk about this later?"

"No."

There was another gap of silence and Isak felt the shakiness coming on again, a different sort of shakiness– the one he'd felt on the bus, like he was going to cry if the silence continued any longer.

"It's gonna eat me alive, that image. If you don't say anything."

"I'm not–," Isak could see the guilt written across his face, in the tension of his jaw. His lips. 

He looked away, somewhere other than at the mess he'd just made.

"You said you didn't want mentally ill people in your life."

Isak looked back again, this time sharply aware of the boy, the person, that was standing in front of him.

"I don't know if I did it for me or for you," Even continued, and Isak knew he was talking about the text. _Some time apart._

"It doesn't excuse you," Isaks voice was soft again, stinging with hurt, even now that he knew.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry Isak. It was...habit. She came up to me and I just didn't think. Sometimes I don't think either."

"I didn't mean...I meant– I meant. My mom. I didn't mean you," and there was something welling in his eyes that he was swiping at, something about his mamma and Even and everything. ( How his mamma said, the Lord would punish the sinners, and Isak, Isak was a sinner. He hid her away where he couldn't see her. _Hear_ her. And maybe the puking and the running and _Jonas_. He was exhausted in all ways a person could be. )

Evens fingers were pushing back his cap ( Jonas' cap ) into the hood of his sweatshirt so he could tug him close by the back of his neck, safely away from the biohazard Isak had just created.

His fingers soothed through Isaks hair, and Isaks face found the side of Evens and Evens lips were against his temple, pressing soothing kisses and if Isak were a louder crier he may have missed the way he shushed him, opposite hand soft against his back, Even soft against his front, impossibly soft– and somehow that was just what Even always was, so impossibly soft ( except when he wasn't ) and sometimes Isak forgot that he too, had other pieces to him that hadn't seen the light, not in front of Isaks eyes; that Isak had captured only what parts of Even he'd wanted and not all parts of Even as he was.

"I'm sorry," his voice was gummy from snot and he wiped his face with the corner of sleeve and sniffed, Even pulling him hard enough to him, even gently, that he couldn't avoid getting his sweatshirt wet.

"It's okay. Me too, I'm sorry too." And they stood like that for far too long, long after Isak had stopped crying and had instead lay empty against Even who for all the world seemed he had no place else to be. 

Isak stayed there soft and warm for a while longer before he was, surprisingly, the one to break the silence.

"I want to kiss you."

"Not with that mouth," Even replied skeptically.

"No, I know. I won't."

Even withdrew lightly from him, pushed Isaks hair back from his forehead and leaned in to press a soft kiss to their, then his cheek, and then, against all sanity, to Isaks lips, chaste and brief.

Isaks let out a breath of laughter, half full of surprise.

"Gross!"

"Yeah, but in a good way."

"Not at all, not at all in a good way."


End file.
